


As the Smoke Rises Pt Two

by PhoenixDragon



Series: As the Smoke Rises [2]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angst, Dark, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-05
Updated: 2006-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The silence stretched, becoming elastic and frail as time passed, and the vampire contemplated his next move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Smoke Rises Pt Two

  
The silence stretched, becoming elastic and frail as time passed, and the vampire contemplated his next move. There was no pity in Wesley's heart. He really had no room for anything but the ache that numbed and chilled, it's influencing spreading to his limbs, weighing them down with utter exhaustion at the prospect of another verbal and mental dance with the vampire.

He just didn't have the energy for it anymore…

" Yes, I can hear you. _Feel_ you, whenever you are near. Does that really surprise you so much after all this time?"

The darkness breathed and chuckled to itself, night falling with a rapid swiftness that startled the mind and lulled the senses, all at once.

Under the cover of the dark, he could breathe again.

Under the cover of dark, he could be _himself_ again –

And maybe – for just a moment – touch who he _used_ to be.

 **Whatever he used to be…**

Somehow, in the living darkness, he imagined he could hear the ripping shuffle of the blaze that had consumed what they once were, the shadows of the falling gloom dancing with the light that rippled just over the horizon.

" Just tell me. Did you know? Did you know that I would die, _did die_ , in that place? Did you know…" More of a statement now, than a question – needing confirmation, needing to hear the truth.

The silence was his answer.

Yes. He did.

  
 _Sweaty, cramped fumblings in the thick dark of an abandoned room._

It didn't matter where – they had all become the same, in his mind.

They all smelled of desperation and ugliness, the very air reeking with the salt of decay and too many years.

He thought, for the millionth time, of how they shouldn't do this. How they couldn't…

 _How_ he _couldn't. He should put a stop to this – he should stop allowing this to happen to him._

He should stop Angel from doing these things _to_ him.

 _But he never called a halt, he never cried for surcease._

He carried on with this darkness, fanning the flames with his silence, his shame and fear – over and over and over – never really knowing why.

Never really knowing how. When.

When it all started – the glances, the chill that would shiver through him when Angel looked his way.

He could never exactly pinpoint the exact day it had started happening – or why he punished himself, allowed himself to be _punished – in such a way._

He just knew that he loved him, needed _him – as twisted and sick as that love, that need was between them. But, it was there – always there…_

That ache to be loved in return, only to be used and discarded – tossed aside by the very person he thought he could depend on, whom he trusted (albeit foolishly, very much implicitly) with his life.

He would submit to the hateful darkness, and his soul would rail within him. But he couldn't stop, couldn't stop...

He despised his weakness, his need for this creature, in such a way that only increased as the months and years fell away – leaving only an empty shell that walked the earth, a shade that wore the face of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

And that, in its own right, was the most beautifully poisoned seduction of them all. To fade to less than himself – to never have to acknowledge what might have been.

What should _have been..._

To just drift on what is –

And be eaten alive with its power…

  
He nearly choked with memory and feeling – the pain as fresh as ever – waves upon waves of pain, leaving him breathless and afraid. He shouldn't let emotion overwhelm him – it could literally mean the death of him.

Again…

His heart thrummed in his ears, his momentary distraction leaving him scrambling for purchase in his current reality, whole body strained towards the presence of his adversary, his savior – his murderer.

" Just tell me..." He breathed, the ache of longing and sadness adding a wistful and torn air to his tone, his head thrumming and aching with the strain of concentrating. His blood pounded in his ears, its tandem synonymous with the building pressure in his skull – the storm after the fire, the crash of the ocean against the unyielding rocks. He was losing it. Had probably already lost – he just didn't have the common decency and good sense to lay down and just let it happen.

" I knew." A rattling whisper in the dark, expected and yet not. Wesley schooled himself not to jump, his body tensed against the sharp stab of those words – their impact greater and more painful than daggers and ice. He found himself nodding, though whether it was to acknowledge the confession, or to confirm his feelings on it, he wasn't sure.

" I won't ask how you could do that to me. I received my answer over a week ago. I just didn't know your hatred, your disgust with me ran that deep – went that far." He swallowed past the chilly lump of his heart and what was left of his soul, almost afraid the one thing he had left, his words, would desert him as surely as his steady ground that he had once stood upon. Or that he had imagined he had stood upon. What a fool he had been – all these years –

" My mistake."

" Wes…"

" Don't... Please. Just – don't." He croaked, the very atmosphere thin and soupy. Maybe he had fucked up the resurrection spell. Now, that would be funny in a totally non-funny way – it would also be the ultimate lesson in irony.

The grit on the floor whispered to itself as the thing drew closer, and Wes found himself waiting for him to end it, body slumping in defeat and horror. But, there was one more thing –

" The others."

" Gone." The Thing behind him sighed, voice steeped in sorrow and regret.

" Did you know they – "

" Yes. Yes, Wesley, I knew. As did you. So why are you even asking?" The vampire's voice washed over him, soothing, despairing and damning.

" I didn't know. I didn't know until…" He shook his head and stopped the flow of words, the discussion, the conversation pointless in and of itself. They were just dancing, waltzing as they always did.

" I'm sorry." Angel protested, the weariness of his own tone matching Wesley's own exhaustion, his voice dim and somehow, old. Far, far older than he actually was.

He was closer than ever, if he breathed, the warm gust of it would be almost ghosting across the nape of Wesley's neck, leaving behind the layers of his terrible knowledge and experience. Suffocating. Timeless. Evil with decay and hopelessness.

" I'm sorry…"

He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the view of the chaos and destruction below – turning his gaze inward – to the chaos and destruction within.

" I know." He mumbled numbly. " I know…"

And the darkness wrapped itself around him, completing the illusion of crowded isolation within the gloomy confines of its ebony cloak. He breathed in the spice of age and power as Angel glided nearer still, his heart constricting painfully under his ribs as he waited for the end to come.

In many ways – it already had…


End file.
